Plums of the Caribbean 3
by MsBrooklyn
Summary: Everyone's favorite Trenton bounty hunter is back and still stuck in the past but which one? Reality as she knew it has completely changed. Pirate kings? Barbossa? Undead monkeys? Fountains of youth that don't involve Botox? And still no donuts!
1. Chapter 1 From AU to AU

Plums of the Caribbean 3

By MsBrooklyn

Chapter 1 – From AU to AU

Author's note: This sequel seemed like it would never happen after I saw Dead Man's Chest. Too much had changed and I wasn't sure how to make things fit anymore. AWE's after-credits scene left me the opening I needed and gave me some fun new characters to play with, even if it took away some of my favorites. The trick was putting Stephanie back in context. Hopefully this chapter does it and then we can get on with the show.

Oh yeah – I don't own 'em (the pirates belong to the Mouse and Stephanie belongs to the goddess, Janet Evanovich).

Here be spoilers.

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When I was a little girl, I liked to pretend I was a super hero. I jumped off my parents' garage and broke my arm. When I was about twenty years older, I liked to pretend I was a bounty hunter. I never broke anything, but a lot of my cars got blown up. Still, I was sort of good at it and at least I made enough money to pay my rent. Usually.

My name is Stephanie Plum and I'm stuck in the year 1689 where there are no superheroes or women bounty hunters. There aren't any doughnuts or Tastykake butter krimpets. There isn't much of anything and if I had my choice, Port Royal in 1689 is the last place I'd be. Especially today.

Today I had a date with Commodore James Norrington and he took me to a hanging. Hangings were the 1689 equivalent of a Devils game, with the beer but the losing team went home in a box.

"Stephanie?" Norrington was doing a little trot, keeping up easily with me. I would have been running, but I was wearing enough fabric to not only upholster my sofa but also wallpaper the living room. "Please say something."

I stopped and looked out at the horizon. The sand was hot under my bare feet. I'd kicked off those uncomfortable 1689 shoes the second I hit the beach. It was a smart move because I could walk faster and because it slowed Norrington down while he retrieved them for me.

"It was important for you to accompany me," Norrington said, grasping my arm. "You've been among us for two months now and my acquaintance with you has gone beyond idle gossip to public knowledge –"

"Stop." I interrupted him with a raised hand but didn't take my eyes off the setting sun. "We've discussed this before. I can't marry you."

He let go of my arm. "Regardless, it is a known fact that I am courting you –"

"And I let you talk me into going to a hanging." I shuddered at the memory. "I'm not doing that again, no matter how long I'm stuck here."

"I will not ask you to do so again."

"Damn skippy." I let him take me to a public event and show me off to shut up the local gossips. Now all they were going to talk about was how I tossed my cookies all over Murtogg. There was a bright flash of lightning in the distance and it gave me the opening to change the subject. "Looks like a storm's coming."

Norrington gave me a funny look and seized my arm again. "No, Stephanie, it does not. Come. Hurry."

It took a second and then I realized exactly what he meant. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. "Oh sh ---"

Before I could finish the sentence that would have gotten my mouth washed out with soap, everything went black.

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I woke up with the mother of all headaches and normally, that would have upset me but I was glad to be waking up at all. Tossing aside the covers, I ran a hand through my hair and stumbled out of bed in search of water and a bottle of aspirin. I got as far as opening my bedroom door.

There, in my doorway, was a little boy staring up at me with big, brown eyes. "Auntie Steph? Are you unwell?"

I glanced past him at an unfamiliar hallway and then back at the bed I'd just climbed out of. That wasn't familiar, either.

"Aunt Stephanie?" the boy repeated.

He had a British accent, which meant I wasn't in New Jersey. Was I still in Port Royal? And why did he know who I was but I didn't know him?

"Mummy!" The boy turned and ran down the hallway. "Mummy!"

Well, at least now I would get some answers.

I was sure I would have preferred a Tastykake.


	2. Chapter 2 They Made Me Their King

Chapter 2 – And Then They Made Me Their King

"Stephanie?" I was still standing in my doorway when Elizabeth Turner appeared. Her eyes were full of concern as they swept over me. "Will said you weren't feeling well."

"Will?"

"My son. Your nephew. Will."

"Son?" I stepped backward into the room and sank down on the edge of the bed. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember was getting caught on the beach in a lightning storm with Norrington."

Elizabeth's eyebrow rose and then she shook her head. "It must have been a dream."

"It wasn't –"

"It _had _to be. James has been dead for nearly ten years, you know that."

"What?!" I needed coffee. I needed doughnuts. There was no way I could have this conversation otherwise. "That's impossible. We were just arguing… How? Who did it?"

She leaned forward and brushed a cool, smooth hand against my forehead. When she didn't feel a fever, it was her turn to look confused. "You know this."

"Pretend I don't. Pretend I just got here." Which I did. The question was, where was here? And why were things so different?

"James was killed on the Dutchman, helping us to escape. One of Davy Jones' men killed him." Even if it was ten years ago, the memory disturbed her. A lot.

But the revelation confused me. "Davy Jones? The _Flying_ Dutchman? That's impossible. He's a myth."

Elizabeth stiffened and she was suddenly angry. "It is not a myth and you know very well that it is not. I have no idea why you're doing this –"

"Me? You're the one…" I stopped and looked around again. "Elizabeth, you know I'm from the future."

"Of course I do," she said, warily.

"Well, I've never been to this particular past. Last I checked, you were a newly-wed and you were letting me stay in the Governor's mansion. This isn't it." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I don't know where I am. Or when. And everything's different. The last thing I remember is going to the hanging with Norrington."

"That was the day before he went off to pursue Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth said. "And the beginning of the end for him." She stared hard at me. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Nope." Something occurred to me and I bolted off the bed and lifted the hand mirror from the dressing table. If I'd been here for ten years, I would look older. Except, I didn't. I looked exactly the same. Well, almost. There was a small burn on my cheek and it was fresh. "Any idea how I got this burn?"

Elizabeth touched it lightly. "That wasn't there last night. And your hair is singed on that side of your face."

We stared at each other. And then we said it simultaneously. "Ring."

"He's back."

"And you've just gotten here." Elizabeth reached for the doorknob. "Stay right where you are. I'm going to fetch some sherry. I have some tales to tell you about the Commodore, Will and our friend, Captain Jack Sparrow."

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"And they really made you their king?"

Elizabeth nodded proudly. "King of the Pirates. It's paid for this house and kept young Will and I quite well for the past nine years, eleven months and twenty-five days."

"But who's counting?"

"Five days until I get to see my husband. I'm counting the seconds, Stephanie." She smiled wistfully. "I want him to see his son. And I was hoping we might find a way to free him so that I could see him for more than one day every ten years."

"What about Sparrow? Shouldn't he be lurking around for the event?" I asked.

"He's had his hands full chasing after the Pearl, trying to reclaim her from Barbossa. Not to mention avoiding the East India Company. And I believe, searching for some fountain of youth." Her eyes sparkled slightly. "He'll be here. I've no doubt."

I rolled my eyes. "He's looking for the Fountain of Youth? Good luck. He's more likely to get bitten on the ass by an alligator."

"Ah, but you're forgetting one thing." Elizabeth smiled wickedly. "He's Captain Jack Sparrow. Now drink up me hearty. We've only a few drops left of this sherry."

"Yo ho."

"Yo, ho'!" A voice boomed loudly behind me and the glass slipped out of my fingers, shattering on the wood floor. "Sorry I'm late," Diesel apologized, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "Am I interrupting a slumber party?"

My left eye started twitching. "It's about time you got here. Elizabeth was filling me in, since I seem to have switched realities. Care to explain?"

He heaved a sigh. "We had to fix a few historical holes you caused and then we needed to move you before you completely jacked up global history."

"And yet you can't get me home."

"We're working on it, sweet cheeks."

"For ten years!?"

"It's been less than a day back home. Time isn't a straight line. Jeez, didn't you ever read A Wrinkle in Time when you were a kid?"

The twitching in my eye grew worse. I slapped a hand over it.

"Anyway, this is a pivotal time and you need to be here. I can't explain why but you have to trust me." He held up a bag. "I brought doughnuts. Chocolate ones."

"You think a doughnut –"

"A dozen."

"You think a dozen doughnuts is going to make me forget that I'm not from 1689 –"

"1699."

"Whatever. This isn't the Burg. I don't belong here. There's no TV, personal hygiene is atrocious and the fashion is a disaster. I. Want. To. Go. Home. Now."

"Sure." Diesel through the bag of doughnuts at me and opened the bedroom door. He walked through it and I knew without getting up, he was gone.

"I hate when he does that," I groused.

Elizabeth shrugged and bit into a doughnut.

I reached into the bag. If I was going to be stuck here, I wasn't going to let the King of the Pirates have all the doughnuts.


End file.
